


Bite Me

by vartamin



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, Fantasy AU, Gen, Mystical Creatures AU, Slow Burn, Spirit World, The death isn't main character but just to be safe, Werewolf AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2018-08-08 20:06:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7771384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vartamin/pseuds/vartamin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since Katara was little her father had recounted to her stories of the monsters. The spiritual beings that had seeped through the boundary’s weak points like honey, melting slowly into the material world before taking odd shapes and fusing themselves to those with unfortunate souls. </p><p>Ever since she was little she had been afraid of the spirit beasts, and then she became one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. to begin is suffering

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really sorry if it doesn't flow well! My writing style has changed a lot recently so the parts I wrote a while ago connect oddly with those I've written recently. The next chapters shouldn't be as clunky though!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The barrier, boundary between the spirit world and the material world, has been torn. Great spirits came out and have wreaked havoc on the world but with the birth of seers, exceptional people with the ability to prophecize and counsel the nations, they still thrive.

Katara rose from her place on the snow covered ground, ice and dead twigs tangled in her dark hair. Her limbs moved as if through swamp water, heavy and awkward in her waking moments and she tried to clear her head, pushing through the haze draped over her mind like a thick veil.

Ever since a haunting wolf spirit had latched itself to her spine when she was five, every full moon was a new torturous journey, skin tearing to reveal the Beast hiding impatiently underneath.

It had gotten to her mother first, while they were on a long walk gathering roots and the occasional berry in hide-covered wicker baskets.

It had consumed her, and her screams echoed in the clear air as she flickered between mortal and Wolf, bones cracking until the broken skin above grew a thick coat of fur. Her mother wasn't strong enough to support the Wolf’s desire tumbling off its tongue like blood and she fell to the snowy ground, clawing at the ice beneath her.

“Run, Katara, run.” She said to her daughter in a breathy voice, “Please, Katara, get away, run.” Her words repeated in a broken mantra and Katara’s legs took her away, scrambling over ledges and down hills to get back to her village.

But she wasn't fast enough, and the Wolf spirit came bounding over after her mother gave up on her last dreg of life, having held on as long as she could to give her daughter time to get away.

 

?¿?

 

Katara scrunched her face in disgust at the tang of copper resting heavily on her tongue and her still heightened senses made out the sickening stench of a fresh kill. An unfortunate victim. She tried to ignore the pleased tug in her stomach that the knowledge of violence carried.

She pushed the suffocating scent from her mind and took a deep breath to still her dizzy head as a fever pounded headaches into her skull like hail crashing against the ground, sharp and unyielding.

Then came the pain, first from a long gash in her side, then her muscles, joints and bones. The unending aches had set in, almost unbearably nauseating, and she curled into a ball on the ground she had just risen from, in an effort to stave off the worst of the anguish.

Above all, the pain was the worst part of being a Beast. The roiling, burning, tearing pain of transformation always started a couple of days before and lasted until her body had mended itself back together in the nights afterwards. But nothing ever compared to the pain on the night of the full moon. When her body broke and twisted into a new form, consumed by the burning chill of anger and bloodlust.

She pushed through the aching burn of bones reset to claw her way to a standing position. She pulled herself forward like waves, stepped in time with the far away tide, her mind a mist of pain, fevered thoughts and something a little blood thirsty.

She stumbled her way through the deep snow, footsteps trailing lethargically.

In the sky above her the stars still shone, pulsing teasingly in the dark cloth of night thrown overhead. Full moons during the Polar Nights were worse than most, with the constant presence of the moon bearing down on her shoulders.

As thoughts of a star-less night blanketed over her mind, she began her trek home, searching for some kind of landmark she could use to guide her.

She wondered idly if she'd drown in the endless expanse of flurries weaving softly through the cold air. She wondered if she wanted to.

 

¿?¿

 

Off in the distance an iron-class steamship huffed ash and smoke into the crisp night and approached cautiously, winding its way through the iceberg laden waters with difficulty. It wasn't built to withstand the sharp edges twisting out beneath the calm ocean like hidden thorns on the stems of snow white roses.

A lone figure stood at the bow of the ship pensively, trembling hands clasped behind his back in an air of indifference, as if the endless night didn't send ominous chills to gather at the base of his spine. As if the air didn't pulse with something almost substantial, laying so thickly on the chilly breeze he felt he could almost touch it.

It was charged with an energy greater than the rebelling sparks off the sides of lightning strikes and he could practically feel the weight of his father’s palm on the curve of his shoulder as he welcomed him back, welcomed him home.

Zuko would find the tear in the boundary between their world and the spirit world, he would succeed where no one else could and finally, Firelord Ozai would be proud to stand at his side and call him his son.

A rotund, aging man made his way over to Prince Zuko on quiet feet, footsteps faint against the echoing deck despite his stature. The wrinkles spreading seemly like racing roots on his face told of cheerful chuckles, whereas the heavy set of his eyes told of war and the loss of countless lives hanging like puppets off his wide shoulders. General Iroh, Dragon of the West.

“Nephew, you must come inside.” General Iroh’s tone was laced with worry and he placed a hand on Zuko’s shoulder, hoping to usher him into the comfort of a warm room. “There's no good to standing outside in this nightmare land, if the cold doesn't get you the wraiths or mer will. You know how they prey on those who have lost their way. This place is practically a breeding ground for spirit creatures.” His voice was a quiet husk, but it carried in the humming silence of the Great South.

Prince Zuko shrugged off his uncle’s warm hand, repressing a shiver at the cold that seeped in in its stead, his ponytail shook slightly with the movement. “I haven't lost my way, I know my destiny and you'd be better not to question it, old man.” He said, sharp, raspy voice cutting through the soft wind. “I can't go inside now, we’re so close to the spirit tear. I can feel it, it's here, uncle.” The naivety bounced from his words like spring showers, a hopeful desperation coating his voice.

General Iroh looked down at his imperial boot-claden feet, a heavy sigh pulling itself from his diaphragm. His nephew was not one to be dissuaded, resting knee deep in the ground he dug his heels into. He pulled away, eyes shifting to the side in disappointment, Prince Zuko still had a lot to learn.

He stood behind Zuko calmly, his hands folded neatly in front of his stomach as the boy shifted uncomfortably, guilt itching through Zuko’s chest with grimy nails under the watchful gaze of his uncle.

“You can go back now.” Zuko said eventually, shattering the perceived calm hanging over the standard issue Fire Nation vessel.

“Of course.” General Iroh responded, face downcast as he made his way back to the ship’s interior, changing Zuko’s mind had always been a challenge.

Iroh hoped that Zuko would find himself in the endless expanse of snow and ice.

 

¿?¿

 

In the flurry of snowflakes falling to the ground, Katara trudged on, letting the snow underneath melt between her footsteps. She shivered as the biting wind cut through her thick winter coat, she had it packed in a pouch of essentials she tied to her back at the beginning of every moon cycle.

She squinted through the tumbling snow to better see her surroundings, taking in the unfamiliar ice structures poking through the thick, blanketing cover. Desperation clawed its way up her throat and pushed at her temple insistently. Her gloved fingers were already soaked and frozen, rushing cold pooling between her palms. In her fevered state, body still recuperating from the transformations, she dragged herself to the very edge of a frozen coast stretching out in an endless curve before she saw the dark ocean lapping near her toes.

The night horizon melted into hues of dark blue that shifted lazily and the star strewn sky reflected off of the deep waters, as if she was standing at the edge of the world and the waves stretching out to greet her feet were the joined hands of Tui and La, the ocean and the moon coming to pull her into their waiting depths. She frowned, breath huffing out of her chest, some small part of her regarded the deities with disdain, twisting with a resentful quip of ‘I deserved better than this’.

She shook her head to rid herself of the thought, an apology prayer stumbling out of purple lips.

Her eyes caught on a shadowed distortion in the distance advancing slowly towards the coast and she took a couple small steps forward, struggling to make it out in the darkness. Her wolf senses sharpened her waning vision and she picked out a red flag hanging limply in the calm air, her hands shook when she recognized the smoke spewing ship.

Fire Nation.

Katara had heard the stories since she was a child, of a weak son of Firelord Azulon, with no chance of inheriting the throne. She had heard how he had called to him a dark spirit to bless him with power and glory and strength through the echo of water tribe council voices, how he had offered to it the lives of the Air Nomads, how it had wanted more. She had heard how he had spilt his own wife’s blood, let it pool to gather in puddles on the courtroom floor. He had gotten what he wanted, through the genocide of the Air Nation, a murdered wife, a dead Firelord, an exiled older brother after the people ousted him from the throne and an assassinated nephew next in line; he got the throne.

Katara scrambled across the arctic beach, shins dipping into the cold water as each step met with the oncoming tide. The water burned icily, soaking its way through the baggy pants she had taken from her brother. Her mind was dizzy with panic, tilting the ground until she fell into the shallow depths of waves like the night sky, crumpled into the splash of water.

She sat there for a moment, her harsh breaths stained the cold air with a thin mist and the stars overhead pulsed insistently as the fever softened the edges of her vision dangerously. She raised trembling fingers to twist the small blue beads woven into her hair, the smooth markings infused with protection wards. She felt the faint tug of traditional blessings through her frozen fingers and calmed her stumbling thoughts.

Katara lowered her hand to brush softly against her mother’s necklace, memories of a smooth voice and soothing lullabies twisting to resound quietly through her thoughts.

She stood up, standing still in the slowly growing waves; as if even the ocean could sense the smoking disturbance and they were mounting their protest. Katara tried to push through the nausea building in her throat as she stepped forward carefully, placing her foot tentatively on the icy shore. She strode along the edge of the bay, slowly building up speed before breaking out of the water and into a fast jog. Her feet slammed roughly into the permafrost ground, she had little control over her muscles in her fevered state. Growing fractures spread with each echoing footfall, twining like greedy roots across the frozen shore.

She knew from her many nights left to recover alone out in the cold that if she followed the shore she’d eventually reach her seaside village. So she ran, the faint memory of a desperate voice rang in her mind and urged her forward, faster.

She wasn’t strong enough to protect them then, then she had failed. Never again. Panicked thoughts tumbled through her hazy mind and at that moment she knew, even if it destroyed her, left toughened weeds to wind their way out of her rotting corpse, she would give her life to shout in warning to her people. She would die to protect them from the ship that slowly approached the coastside like a bad omen, sailing over the brewing storm as if it carried smokey storm clouds in its iron hull.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw they're all aged up a bit Zuko's 18 and Katara's 17
> 
> Bending doesn't exist in this world.... yet?


	2. have i been haunted?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara drowns in her fever and Zuko suffocates in the haunting of desire

Katara stumbled to the edge of the village on trembling legs and fell roughly to the ground, heaving shallow breaths and spit onto the slick ice. A few stray strands of hair not held back by the intricate knot woven ceremoniously behind her head caught in her open mouth and dragged harshly against the cracks in her chapped lips.

She tried to push herself off of the snow but her knees buckled underneath her and she tumbled back down to be swallowed by the unforgiving flurries, scratching uselessly at the melting powder. Salty tears stung courses down her bruised face and she wailed blindly into the frozen ground, screaming prayers desperately in a scratchy voice to the Gods she couldn't help but admire yet detest. Her hoarse voice bounced off the icy wind to echo through the tribe.

Loud footsteps rushed towards her and the rattling of weapons carried to her muffled ears, the sounds vibrating through the ice and snow.

_Was she too late?_

Her hands scrambled to find purchase, digging at the weak powder to drag herself forwards. Her head raised to watch her numb fingers push slowly into the snow and pull her body across the ground. Her eyesight dimmed and the pounding of booted feet sounded more like the crashing of waves, the grating of metal and wood against rough palms more like the screech of wind as it tore through barren lands, as if it longed to see all that lived ridden from the Earth.

Katara drowned in the heat emanating from her forehead and her dizzy thoughts fell like spinning tops on the coarse bark of council tables, winding past the worn cracks in the rotting wood in slow motion.

Her arms shook uncomfortably in exhaustion as she pulled herself up to rest her weight on frozen palms, her hands cut into the cold ground mercilessly. A last breath tugged itself from her tired lungs before her limbs once again betrayed her and her vision swam in uneasy waves, the image of clothed knees dipping down to kneel next to her interrupted by the sudden drop.

A strong pair of hands caught her and she sighed in relief as the familiar scent of her brother folded over her like the warmth of a hearth fire.

“Moons, Katara, we thought you were a wraith.” He said, voice dipped in exasperation and laced with concern. Her fingers curled into the thickness of his armoured coat, “What have you done to yourself this time?” he whispered, quiet and caring as the rest slowed to a stop next to them. Some warriors hung back cautiously, they curled away from the purple smeared across her skin like it burned, restless eyes darting to each other suspiciously.

She brought her eyes to rest on his, the gray-blue of his irises twisting with the pounding of her fever, her mouth dipped into a frown as the relief slipped from her shaking hands. “Fire Nation,” she said, the consonants laid heavily on the thickness of her tongue as they rolled out of her mouth, tumbling lethargically from her frozen lips.

Sokka’s hands fumbled on her arms, “K-Katara, what are you talking about?” His voice rose and washed over her icily. His grip tightened to ring streaks of white on her skin through the thick material of her jacket and he shook her slightly, trying to bring her back from the precipice of fevered sleep.

“Boat, smoke… off the coast.” She said dazedly before she gave in slowly to the chattering of her bones and the cold sweat trailing down her warm skin. The dark of unconsciousness swallowed her in waves, dragged her in rhythmically like the high tide.

  
¿?¿

  
The click of heavy footsteps bounced off of ornate walls and golden threads spun into fields of snapdragons on the blood red curtains that hung neatly around a throne in the lamplit courtroom. The looming figure strode towards the decorated chair standing solemnly on a raised dais, pushing past the gold-laced fabric with smooth hands.

In the flicker of light cast around the room the man’s eyes glinted a deep black, the harsh gold of his irises seeping into the inky darkness as he fell under the shadow of the throne’s curtains.

He seated himself carefully, his legs crossing on the soft cushions. His tainted soul tugged at the faint flames, pulling the heat into streams that gathered to form a solid barrier in front of him. It burned along the edge of the dais and shrouded the impassive man.

The sound of impatient feet and shifting robes broke through the thick mahogany doors of the courtroom and they creaked open to reveal humble Fire Sages shuffling in, their heads bowed like twigs of dying grass to the grating wind. They walked towards him and a couple gasps breathed their way into the stuffy room at the wall of fire concealing the ominous figure before they all fell quickly into low bows, foreheads settling on the ground as they paid their respect.

He arched an eyebrow at the sound, his lips stretched in a predatory grin and his eyes narrowed to send haunting chills to crawl up the Fire Sages’ bowed spines through the curtain of flames. “Those of low standing must not lay their eyes upon royalty.” He said sinisterly, bouncing the words sharply off his tongue.

The Fire Sages shifted uncomfortably at the new rule before a loud mind broke the untempered silence. “As you wish, Firelord Ozai.” It said with confidence.

  
¿?¿

  
Prince Zuko woke with a start, breathing hard. He felt the tug of dainty palms resting against his face and he leaned his head into the touch, craving the small bits of affection it left like a trail through the ship’s empty hallways. He followed the spirit dutifully, his softly fumbling footsteps merging into the creaking and grating of metal that pursued his quiet feet like the ghost of machination.

Zuko’s stride widened as the grazing spirit quickened until he was running and his feet pounded into the ground, echoing to groan through the stale metallic air. His desire tumbled out desperately in the sweat gathering on his skin and distantly he realized his eyes were still closed, he couldn't see anything but the goady lust that swam smoothly into his mind with sweet touches and hums.

He knocked roughly into a solid door, the latches and pumps curving around it dug harshly into his skin and he felt around blindly for the handle as the fingers brushing against his cheekbones left him to pass quietly through the door. The thrum of his blood picked up to drown him in a dazed panic and Zuko hit his hand repeatedly against the iron door while the other pushed down on any stray piece of engineering that faintly resembled a handle to his frenzied fingers.

Zuko at last opened the door to feel the bite of icy wind as it crawled up his spine and settled somewhere near his heart. He burst out to fall smoothly into the waiting embrace of the waning spirit.

Their cold arms burned his pale skin as they wrapped around him and led him in slowly twisting circles across the echoing floorboards. His feet struggled to keep him upright, to stay in tune with the sway of the waves pushing lazily against the anchored boat and the sway of the figure’s gentle movements.

The wraith danced him across the deck with wispy eyes and he shivered with the icy floor, the cold metal singed his bare feet like embers of ice and snow. His chest met suddenly with the iron railing, bruising harsh lines along the bones of his ribs as the dancing figure once again left his grip and floated gently over the side of the boat.

The faint scream of a worried voice tore lethargically through the thick dizziness laying heavily on Zuko’s skull, yet he scrambled for the waning figure through the darkness cloaking his vision, pulling his body to hang half off the railing.

A rough, armoured hand grasped his arm tightly and Zuko shook out of the trance.

His eyes cracked open wide and his heart stuttered out an uneven rhythm like the flickering of a candle to the overbearing wind. He was leaning over the side of the boat dangerously, tilting with the rhythmic flow of the ship. He let the panicked soldier heave him back over the railing as the cold finally settled in his bones, washing over him as the stars teased him lightly overhead.

“Prince Zuko, are you okay?” The soldier asked hurriedly. “The wraith almost pulled you overboard.” He said, twisting his free hand into the fabric of Zuko’s thin shirt.

Zuko looked up at the wraith and took in their true form. They hung above the dark ocean waters like the ghost of a puppet, sunken eyes dusty marbles in a garish kind of face. Its sharp features fell like thick sheets of rain, empty air peaking through the misty gaps of the wraith’s figure.

Patterns twirled their way across the ghost’s skin, breathing with the slow sway of the oceans as they glowed in the night. Their fluttering robes twisted in an imaginary breeze and long ribbons knotted gently near Zuko, as if they were urging him forward.

“Is that what got Lieutenant Sho last night?” Zuko asked softly, the rasp of his voice rolling into the frigid air. They had dropped the anchor to dig itself into the ocean floor and Zuko had woken up to his crew digging their knees into the harsh iron of the deck, they mourned as they lit candles to be carried away by the thrumming current, like the flickering of flames bobbing gently in the dark water would carry the dead man’s soul back home.

A vague sense of surprise clouded the young soldier’s face, “Y-yeah.” He answered, as if he wouldn't have thought Prince Zuko remembered their names.

Zuko nodded slowly, awkwardness bunched in the stiffness of his neck and the harsh lines of his jaw as he clenched his teeth. As if in grand defiance he pushed the discomfort aside to rest uneasily in his stomach. “Wake the rest, we should set out in our search by the next hour.” He said, he turned away from the wraith to walk back inside, embarrassment weighing down on the wide set of his shoulders.

“But it's still night,” the soldier said, “we should wait until morning.” He shifted uncomfortably as Zuko’s head snapped around and his sharp gaze fell on Jun Hiro, a usually timid young man with lava for a tongue, constantly spewing. Hiro shrunk in on himself like aged parchment folding lightly at the corners.

Prince Zuko scoffed, “It's the _Polar Night_ , it won't _be_ morning for weeks.” His low voice tinged the air with a silent warning as annoyance seeped from his tongue. He was sure of this much, at least.

  
¿?¿

  
Katara woke in spurts, consciousness a slow moving river that brushed against her fingertips before slipping from her clammy hands to drip slowly into a pool of restless dreams. She felt something stirring in rhythmic beats against her forehead like the ceaseless pounding of a drum and her mind jostled in her skull with the blurry images her eyes opened to.

She saw her brother leaning against the wall of the warm hut, a small fire crackling in the corner. His arms were crossed in front of his chest and his foot tapped impatiently, his brows furrowing in concern.

“Katara?” He said, his confused voice swam towards her in discordant waves before her heavy eyelids dragged her back into the silence.

The next time she woke, thick fingers wrapped carefully around her wrist and brought her arm up, Katara wondered distantly if her arm was an ivory gull and flying away. She felt the fingers poke at the tender skin on her side before laying something soft over it, winding cloth up her body with difficulty, a mumbled _‘damn spirit host’_ circling her cottoned ears before she melted into unconsciousness once again.

Her eyes opened to the feeling of soft hair brushing against her face and slim fingers twining carefully through her hair. They fell slowly to the sides of her face and a sweet voice murmured prayers as if that was all they knew, breathed the syllables out through softly parted lips and Katara felt crisp air filling her tired lungs in heaving gulps.

Her vision caught lazily on the charms jangling around the young woman’s neck, following them up to her face where white markings twirled against her tan skin. The blind seer smiled at her gently and removed her hands from Katara’s face.

“Ocean and Moon, silken stars and roaming tide, with reverence we command you to mend body and soul, mind and spirit.” She spoke softly, and with that Katara fell into a restless slumber.

The tapping of her brother’s foot echoed through the thick layers of her fever, the itch of fabric pulled away from her side and rough fingers poked at her almost numb skin, wisps of hair breathed carefully across her face and she felt the pull of long, decorated fingers tugging at her skull in blessing and in hope; the moments looped in her mind, as if time was lucid and whirling in circles, and yet the small repetitions oddly soothed her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've already started the next chapter so it shouldn't be as long until my next update!
> 
> If you're confused, just ask me! I feel like the story, though clear in my mind, is pr confusing oops.


	3. frost bitten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was supposed to be a small part of a very large chapter but I've been struggling at getting the rest of the chapter done so I'll just leave this lil bit here until I do and figure out what to do about it then!

Katara woke abruptly, her breaths heaved in uneven gasps as her mind cleared of a draping fog. Her chest arched off of the cot and her fingers clenched at the itchy fabric underneath, clawing at it as if it would steady her wildly beating heart and lungs. 

“Katara!” She heard Sokka yell and she faintly registered him rushing over. “What's wrong? What's happening? Are you okay?” He asked as her breathing slowly calmed, fingers unfurling from where she clutched tufts of fabric. 

Her heart beat so strongly against her ribcage she almost thought it would break through her bones but the pounding in her chest eventually dulled to a lull as she filtered heavy breaths into her lungs. She couldn't help but notice the absence of her father's steady hand and calm voice and something sharp dug its way to nestle deep in her heart, prickling behind her eyes. 

“Where's dad?” She asked, cringing at the helpless tone of her voice as it filled the thinly warmed room, stuffing the air with unease. 

Katara tried to sit up, straining against the looseness of her heavy limbs and Sokka shot his arm out to steady her, worry etched in the creases between his eyebrows. 

“He's in a meeting.” Sokka told her before his voice softened, “He would be here if he could.” His words hung a little limply off his chapped lips and he looked down as shame tucked itself between the thick layers of his clothing, as if he wasn't sure whether or not he was lying. 

“Yeah.” Katara replied curtly, giving a noncommittal nod as she twisted her fingers in the cloth of her shirt. 

With great effort she swung her legs off the side of the bed and grabbed Sokka's shoulder, pushing down on it to rise and settle her weight onto wobbly legs. 

“What are you doing, Katara?” Sokka said, a brisk tone of exasperation smoothing the annoyance out of his voice. 

Katara's mind wavered at the movement, black spots tearing lazily through her wilting vision before receding. “I’m going to see him.” She said, her lip jutted out as it often did when she didn't get her way and she walked slowly towards the opening of the hut. 

“You can't go. He's meeting with the council.” Sokka took after her, a petulant sort of fondness coated his voice before he sighed.

The cold air stung her lungs and pricked at her skin when she passed through the entrance. She took a moment to let the light breeze unwind the churn of unnecessary nerves low in her stomach, revelling in the slow rhythm of winter wind. 

Sokka came out, eyes pinched and mouth downturned in annoyance. He stopped beside her and crossed his arms in front of his chest stubbornly. “You're not even wearing a jacket!” He complained, deep voice squeaking as he spoke. 

Katara promptly ignored him and trudged towards the council building, her feet caught occasionally in deep pockets of snow and ice and she stumbled her way from the healer’s hut to the tribe council. 

"You're going to die of frostbite!" Sokka yelled. “And I’ll be carving ‘I told you so’ onto your grave!”

He gave another sigh when Katara kept moving, waving her hand in dismissal. He raised his arms in exasperation as if to beg Tui and La for the reasoning behind his sister’s fast stride and set shoulders. Sokka cursed the dark horizon lightly before running to catch up to her, holy swears spilling from his mouth before he could think to hold them back. 

"They sent a scout out after you came back, he saw the ship down in Kunikpaa’s Bay and dad has been in meetings ever since.” He explained to her in a huff, almost like he was stringing out sentences of sword and shield, the defensive intonations carrying over to nestle proudly between his ribs as he puffed out his chest. 

Sokka’s eyes darted towards her, softening at the edges, he wished he could ease her worry of almost-absent fathers. 

"Kunikpaa's Bay?" Katara echoed, her feet did the same on the ice creeping slowly over the snow and cracking under the weight of her heels as they drove into the ground on unsteady legs. 

She felt the hairs on the back of her neck waver and stand at the mention of the wraith, she wondered softly if it had trailed behind her as she trekked across the bay to get back home. The ghastly figure had, of course, reached out deft fingers but shied away when it had felt the familiar tug of a fellow spirit. Not immune to a curiosity that seemed almost… human, in a way, at the wolf vessel that stumbled through the thick snow, something like fear had ached through what should have been its bones and it had drawn back. 

Not undesirably, but unwillingly. 

“That's suicide.” Katara said, unknowing. She could feel the cold cling to her skin and seep into her bones and she tried desperately not to shiver, gritting her teeth as she dug crescents into her palms with rough nails. 

Sokka struggled a bit to keep up, still not sure why he followed his sister. He grumbled quietly into his shoulder, a whisper of ungratefulness and the gall of a sickened girl as they came to a stop at the entrance to the large council room, frost crawling stealthily up the drift wood walls. 

Katara rose her fist as if to knock but paused nervously; old habits are hard broken. Sokka’s foot inched into a batch of powdered snow as the moments stretched longer than the softly sighing breeze that nipped at the tips of their fingers. Her breath came a little unsteady but she waded through the uncertain weight of likely reprimands and consequences that draped off her slightly shaking shoulders to let her curled hand drop suddenly, knocking roughly against the wood and shaking the gathering ice off the rigid bark. 

The wood swallowed the sound, as if it too knew they were not to interrupt, and so they stood waiting, shivering under lazy strands of moonlight as impatience drowned out the headache that spread across Katara’s forehead, like the press of strong fingers digging at her skull. 

“We should go back, you know how the council takes to interruptions. Especially from someone who’s a spirit hos-” Sokka was interrupted by the hollow creaking of the doors, hinges straining against the weight as it was pushed open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it wasn't clear, Kunikpaa is the wraith. It's an Inuit name meaning "kiss him/her"
> 
> I'm very sorry it's been so long, I overloaded my course schedule so I can hopefully graduate a year early and I've got dance and a job (+ job and scholarship searching) so I haven't really had the energy to just sit down and write. I'll try very hard from now on though!


	4. closed to you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara was a storm tiptoeing around creaky floorboards and she would not let it rain, not one single drop;
> 
> Zuko could never admire how the darkness pooled behind the light, could only abhor the encroaching oblivion.

“Katara?” Hakoda let out like a soft breath, his eyes traveled to the bareness of her arms and the blood seeped bandages woven around her waist as she passed through the entrance and the heavy doors closed behind her, his brows knitted together as worry seeped from the rhythm his fingers tapped out against the council table. “What are you doing he-”

“Where is your decency, young lady?” Snapped a council elder, his thin lips upturned at the cold that entered along Katara and Sokka. “Your elders convene and yet you come to disturb us- where is your _respect_?” The old man’s eyes bored into her skull as old teachings peeled into Katara’s mind through the waning fever.

Her breathing unsteadied and her vision followed, blurring around the edges. _A mistake. This was a mistake._

“ _Hey_ ,” Sokka called out defensively, “she's the whole reason you guys get to have this meeting in the first place, you can't just shut her out.”

The councilman drew back, his grimace and disgust smoothing into the wrinkles pulled taut over his skin. “ _She_ has no right to so much as step foot in this hall.” His mouth churned out the words cruelly, as if he couldn't stand the taste. “No clansman or woman should be _forced_ to welcome someone so _possessed_ -”

“That's my daughter you're talking about.” Hakoda stood as heads nodded slightly to agree with the elder, his voice lilting dangerously low. He put his weight on the table in front of him, knuckles bleached white and mouth curved downwards as if washing something bitter off his tongue.

Sokka’s mind couldn't help but turn over to the late nights when his father would come home with that same sour expression plastered on and he knew this was a subject often argued.

A spirit among men, wolf among sheep.

“Let it be.” A tired voice rang out clear and smooth as if carrying the sea breeze through slightly clenched teeth. All heads turned to face the seer sitting at the head of the table and she cleared her throat, folding her hands softly in her lap.

The dull lights reflected off her brown skin to taint it a sickly yellow, the white runes splashing up her arms and neck wavering under the heat. Even with her shoulders set rigidly and her spine straight, she seemed small under the burden of the council’s eyes. Born not two moons after Katara, the seer held the council’s attention between her thin fingers like the finest of silks, smoothing out the stark tension with the soft pressure of her voice.

“Auka,” the old man said, gentler this time as sour adoration coated his tongue. Auka tilted her head in his direction, gaze shallowly missing his face to rest on the wall behind him. “the council has ways of doing, ways of living. Even _she_ must respect that.” He shot Katara an ugly glare soaked in a dark disgust, lips dipped in mistrust and suspicion.

“And she will.” Auka responded calmly, and were it not for the nervous shift of her body, dress and heavy coat crinkling slightly, Katara would have thought her perfectly at home. “But Sokka is right, it was her who brought us here. Perhaps, she has something important to share.” She turned to face where she supposed Katara would be. Her gaze pulled towards the waning energy she sensed in Katara’s warded hair beads, she felt the old magics tingle at her fingertips.

Katara realized then that she was meant to speak and transferred her weight side to side uncomfortably. _Why had she come?_ Her mind, still addled from the dregs of her fever paused in its tracks and ran fast all at once. All that could be heard was the shifting of her moccasins against the frost covered wooden planks of floor as the council looked on impatiently.

It was then, under the hefty stares of the council, that Katara felt sickness attach itself to her spine like how it pounded against her skull and throbbingly crawled along her side where her stitches itched, harsh and unforgiving. “I-I wanted to see my father.” She said, shame peaked out from the tears gathering along the line of her lashes to blur her vision and she tried to blink them away; she was a storm tiptoeing around creaky floorboards and she would not let it rain, not one single drop.

Exhaustion peeked at her around the corners of her mind and she let out a shaky sigh, straightening her shoulders before bowing her head and asking softly, “May I speak to him?”.

Hakoda, still standing, furrowed his brow once more and moved to join her over the clattering of the other members quickly shuffling to fill his empty space at the table.

Another man stopped him on his way towards his children with a strong hand on his arm, only his eyes spoke of friendship as he offered to update him on what happens when he’s gone. “Take as long as you need,” his eyes crinkled at the corners in deep laugh lines, “and don't let them get away with anything.” He said with a slight laugh.

“Thank you, Bato.” Hakoda responded, kind and lighthearted, his shoulders straightening as if no longer burdened. He glanced to where his children waited, shifting nervously, and pat his friend once on the back before continuing his path.

When he came to where Sokka and Katara stood he grasped Sokka’s shoulder tightly before moving on to Katara. He placed a heavy hand on each shoulder as if that was all it would take to ground her, still her wandering heart. She'd always been meant for something bigger than this icy world and he’s known it since she was a child daydreaming of rocky mountains and rivers where the water doesn't burn.

 _Kya knew it too_ , he thought.

Only he was selfish, perhaps dangerously so, and he kept her near. Where food was scarce and superstition strong, he held her close to home. Hakoda feared the day she’d realize just how strong she was.

They walked out of the common house without a word, and the silence continued as they travelled out into the snow. Hakoda dare not contemplate the tightness growing in his heart, as if he was scared of what it could say.

?¿?

  
Prince Zuko reminisced of winding market streets and blooming fire lilies as he tugged on his armour, covering the bruises shadowing his arms from his night under the wraith's thrall. He thought of the Fire Nation, longed for the lengthy summer days and the heat that weighed heavy on his skin like the bustling of crowds in busy market places, restless and overwhelming. He swore he could taste home on his tongue before a lurch of the ship brought him back to his cabin, back to the stumbling of his feet as he lost his balance with the tilt of the floor.

“ _Ashes_.” The swear poured from his mouth before it registered in his thoughts as he caught himself on the edge of his short desk. Perhaps, he thought, he picked up something more than sailing techniques and dreams of dry land from his crew, perhaps he lit a quick temper and forgot to put it out.

Prince Zuko stepped away from his desk and turned to stalk out of the room, an unsettled anger boiling under his skin, itching under his nails. He strode down the long hallway and up the stairs to the deck, thin fingers gripping tightly to the cold railing.

He walked out into the star strewn night and glared up at the sky, Zuko could never admire how the darkness pooled behind the light, could only abhor the encroaching oblivion.

“Prince Zuko.” said a slightly breathless voice and Zuko recognized the soldier from the night before as he came to a stop beside him, as if he'd been scrambling. Zuko felt something close to guilt tug at the base of his throat and he clenched his jaw, as if it could rid him of the feeling.

Jun caught his breath quickly, standing up straight as a soldier would. “We should be ready to leave in a few minutes, I've woken up all crew not currently or soon scheduled to be on guard.” Jun Hiro paused for a moment, considering his next thoughts before he spoke for once. “Should the General be notified now?” He asked, slow and timid, as if treading barefoot on wisping embers, scared they might burn.

Zuko paused and his eyes slid to the side guiltily. _Uncle will worry_ , he thought. _Father always said Uncle was weak like that_. And he decided, expression hardening into the stony exterior of a man Ozai just might become proud of.

“No.” His voice was a forceful thing, sharp in all the right places, “Don't bother him.” yet still too soft. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I'm a broken record but I'm really sorry this took so long! My writing took a bit of a dip this chapter I'm sorry, I was struggling a lot with it but I'll make sure it's better for the next one. 
> 
> I think I meant to say this last chapter but after a seer dies, they become a wraith. It's like their curse. 
> 
> Auka is an Inuit name meaning "mother bear" I believe, but correct me if I'm wrong!
> 
> Lil tidbit: if you're homophobic or transphobic, don't read any further.


	5. bitter confontations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tears pricked at Katara’s eyes like the oncoming tide of a storm, building steadily despite how hard she fought against the waves. “You-”, her voice cracked. It was an ugly, broken thing and she took a breath so deep she could feel it settle in her bones. Her Wolf stirred and she almost thought that Turning wouldn't be quite as painful as this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im a terrible horrible person that has no sense of time management. Enjoy. I'll try to explain all the background stuff more in future chapters

Back in their hut, Katara curled up in her furs, letting the small itch travel slowly up her closed throat from the space between her ribs, settling like a prickle behind her eyes and threatening to overflow as the argument from before passed through her head once more.

_“You weren't there." It came out like a whisper, trailing at the edges. "I woke up and you weren't there." Again, softly. Katara raised her head as if the glare slowly slipping from her tired face could hide the weakness coating her words in heavy strokes._

_A long moment passed. Two. Three._

_A small sigh pulled itself from Hakoda’s mouth, set in a thin line, and he ran his hands down his face. “I was in an important meeting, you know that.” He avoided Katara’s gaze as a shallow sense of guilt wove between the tense muscles of his shoulder blades and he shifted them uncomfortably, trying to expel the discomfort._

_“Not then. You weren't there at all.” Katara’s voice was tinged with accusation but she bit her lip as if she hoped her mind was lying, her memories only hazy illusions. “Sokka was. He was worried about me and you…” She trailed off and everything was quiet but for the wind howling lazily outside their hut. At this Sokka hung his head, for all his faults a liar he was not, and he knew perhaps even better than his sister Hakoda’s absence._

_Hakoda grimaced and tried to look offended but his eyes danced around the corners, skirted from the bunched confidence he always made sure to exude._

_Tears pricked at Katara’s eyes like the oncoming tide of a storm, building steadily despite how hard she fought against the waves. “You-”, her voice cracked. It was an ugly, broken thing and she took a breath so deep she could feel it settle in her bones. Her Wolf stirred and she almost thought that Turning wouldn't be quite as painful as this._

_“You never are.” With each passing word she approached unspoken boundaries, pushed the family shame closer to morning’s first light and watched it cower. “Not since Mom…”_

_Now Sokka knew what was coming next and rushed to interject, his hands placed firmly on her shaking shoulders. “Katara, no, you kno-”_

_“Ever since I killed her!” and her voice tore through the air, crested the wind and broke over land like waves crashing upon the shore; no silence had ever been quite as deafening in the Hakoda household._

_Hakoda stood from where Katara had sat him down with anger stretching his lips thin and mean. “That is wrong and you know it, it is not your fault and it_ never _was.” He said through gritted teeth. “I have_ never _blame-” this time it was his voice that cracked, although perhaps more due to the fact he didn’t hold it in his heart to lie._

_The tension rose and Katara couldn't help but feel like it was drowning her, swallowing her whole._

_Sokka stood frozen, like a polar bear in melting season he daren't move for fear of the flimsy ice beneath them breaking, held his breath until his lungs ached._

_Hakoda placed his hands to rest on his hips, sighed with his head bent towards the ground and fought back tears. He was a man too lost without his love, a man too broken without her soothing touch._

_“I don't want to talk about this.” He finally said, in a voice all too calm yet fraying at the edges, taught with everything left unsaid._

_And Katara, awash with tears, felt anger spout forth. “Then_ when _.” In all her turmoil she was desperate to resolve this pain deep within her, to finally be relieved of this guilt._

 _“_ Never _.” Her father said with a finality that called for no opposition. “... She was my wife, and I_ loved _her... And I refuse to have this conversation. Go to bed, I’ll call for the healer in the morning to replace your bandages.” And then, softly, but not without bite. “Maybe then you'll be reasonable.” Getting up and walking out into the frigid cold of outside._

_Sokka followed after him, already mumbling under his breath in a way that highlighted both his exhaustion and the tears threatening to spill from his eyes._

_She couldn't believe her father, still avoiding her mother’s death as if the very memory bit. She couldn't believe he’d leave her to stew, to hurt in all the ways he could've healed._

_With a rage that burned through her core until her fingers twitched, she stalked over to her bed of furs and settled underneath them, turned onto her side facing away from the entrance and vowed to fall asleep before they returned._

Her sadness pulled her into a fitful sleep, engulfing her in a slew of bad dreams only worsened by the steady aching of her bones, still healing from her last Turn, and throbbing of the gash on her side. She could feel the blood soaking through her wrappings, staining the arm pressed to her side as she fell in and out of rest.

 

¿?¿

  
Snow filled Zuko’s heavy boots with each dragging step and he shivered as the cold seeped through his jacket, even the flames that thrummed through his veins couldn't keep the tips of his fingers from turning a slight shade of blue, as if frozen through.

He thought he finally understood why his people spread their cities to balance along the rim of active volcanoes, as if threatening to tip over. He had never appreciated the burn of fire over the lethargic bite of ice as much as he did in that moment.

Through the thick sheets of snow he thought he could make out a large patch of gray in the far distance, peaking up above the endless expanse of white. He roughly adjusted their course towards it, giving the party a destination in their meandering wander and hoping for any kind of shelter from the pounding wind and heavy snow throughout their search.

As they got closer, he realized the shadow he had picked out was a small mountain, with the closest peak just a couple lengths above them.

A young soldier rested her head on the wall, fresh out of training she still wasn't used to bearing the weight of her armour. She let the cold metal of the helmet slowly freeze against the ice, trying to catch both her bearings and her breath before it slid from beneath her and in her exhaustion she brushed away some of the icy snow gripping to the mountain. Or, so they thought it was until the young soldier lifted her head and found the intricate carvings she had unknowingly uncovered.

Frantically, she began brushing away more of the surrounding ice and snow and stepped back in awe when her hands were red and scraped and could brush no more. By that time her colleagues had taken note, and many too smoothed their hands over the ice until almost an entire wall had been uncovered.

“What is this place?” The young soldier, whispered beneath her breath.

Zuko’s breath caught in his lungs, he could remember from his schooling back at home the tales of the lost tribe. Could this be it? Could he have found the second Water Tribe not heard from for almost a century? That disappeared without a trace, their grand and intricate ice structures that were renowned throughout the world lost to the prickling wind and buried under snow.

He exhaled the breath caught in his chest and ordered his party to scour the surrounding area, for a door or an entrance of sorts.

After what could've been no longer than a minute but felt like hours, Jun Hiro called out from a ways away. “Over here, sir! There's a wide entrance, but it seems rundown, like it hasn't been used in ages.”

Quickly, Prince Zuko made his way over, wasting no time he stumbled over snow banks, filled to the brim with childlike excitement. And as he stood before the entrance the excitement melted away, replaced by the creepings of dread and disappointment.

‘Rundown’ was a definite understatement. The hole before him looked nothing like the great structures that detailed the legends. It looked not even man made, seeming to be instead of nature’s birth. Water dripped from the icicles hanging outside the cave like blood, as if they gave their life with each lilting drop to gather in a shallow pool below.

The cave seemed deathly and wind worn, yet he had never been one to give up so easily, so decided they would explore. If only to find shelter from the cruel winter of the South.

The band of weather-worn soldiers held their weapons tight as they grounded their teeth, unwilling to let out the slightest chatter despite the unseemly cold. They entered the cave with a sigh of relief playing on their lips, glad for the shelter against the raging wind. They moved in unison towards their bags, the darkness painting their hollow cheeks as a ghastly scene.

Zuko stepped carefully further into the shadows and stood tense as he looked on into the darkness of the cave, unsettled. “Torches,” he said to the rest of the group, “we need to light the torches if we’re going to continue on. There's… something here, I can feel it.” A sleek kind of danger pulled at his forehead and he wallowed in it, let it consume him.

The soldiers shared a confused glance and their hands stilled from where they had begun to unpack, impatient and exhausted. They'd been battling against the wind and snow for hours, could they not rest?

A gruff soldier scoffed, standing slowly upright with malice on his tongue. “ _Boy_ , get yourself lost if you like, but leave _us_ out of it.” His armour clinked together in the silence that fell upon the small group and he grew uneasy, eyeing the still silhouette of the Prince carefully.

Zuko turned, slowly. He could feel the income of smoke filtering through his mouth and let it seep between his teeth. He looked haunted, shadows melting into the harsh lines of his cheekbones and deepening the rough grooves of his scar. He held himself like fury, anger running cold and deep. Chills ran neatly down the soldiers’ curved spines as the Prince’s booted toes dug slightly into the snowy floor, planting themselves on shaky ground.

His breath tinged the air with embers and his hands came to rest gently on the dao swords at his hip. “ _Respect_.” He said, his voice bloomed gruffly into the cold as he continued to fill the air with ash and wilting spires of smoke. “I _expect_ your compliance or this ‘ _boy_ ’ will cut out your tongue.”

The once confident soldier’s feet brought him quickly backwards at the flames he could see gathering at the back of Prince Zuko’s throat as he spoke. They crawled to lick between his teeth and spill from his lips like forked tongues singeing sunlight into the soft shadows of the cave breeze like wind chimes.

“Zuko.” Zuko froze abruptly, muscles tensing beneath the weight of his armour. If it weren't for the tenor of the speaker’s voice he would have sworn he could hear his mother admonishing him in the softness and he quickly turned around, scared he'd found another ghost to haunt him. “ _Prince_ Zuko.” It was Jun, the man quickly learning to think before he bled his words into the air. “We’ve roamed aimlessly for half a day’s time already. We are tired, we _must_ rest.”

Jun almost gave in to the desire to cower and let be, to fold into the cold air between the chinks in his armour, but he tightened his jaw as his heart beat fast. Prince Zuko paused, blinking at him as if muddling through slow moving thoughts.

In the end Zuko huffed, breathing the smoke tinged air into his lungs and stalking further down the cave before plopping down against the icy wall. He sulked with his arms crossed and tried to stop from melting grooves into the ice behind him from the heat that poured off him in waves.

The others took this as permission and began to unpack. The loud mouthed soldier sunk to his knees with his eyes wide, he daren’t look at the Prince for fear his mouth would still be burning. He had never seen a monster like him before, for all the spirits that roamed the earth he had never been so scared. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow so I'm it's been forever??? I haven't abandoned this I'm still working it I've just had a lot of rough life patches that I haven't quite worked through yet. Not that anyone's reading skgfdggh but I'm still rly proud of this work even if it's not that good!! It's the longest thing I've ever written and also the longest I've ever dedicated myself to a story so that's like.... super cool


	6. tired eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "They don't know her like I do. They see her Turn and not much else, they speak of only the danger she could bring."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looking back, the other chapters weren't nearly as clunky and disconnected as I thought they were, must've just been being a downer n all

Whispers, whispers, whispers filled the night sky, and it took awhile for Katara to realize she wasn't dreaming.

She curled deeper into her fur-lined sleeping bag and chased the peace of sleep. But the voices carried over from the doorway, not stifled through the wood but near the door nevertheless. The whispers were clearer now and sharpened into sentences she couldn't ignore.

“-anchored? … don't they kn-... haunted.” Katara heard her father speak and almost immediately tuned out out of spite, had it not been for Bato’s voice filling the silence afterwards.

“-elders are worried… can't possibly be good-... what the Fire Nation did to-... in the Earth Kingdom.”

Katara focused harder on listening in to the information being put forth. She turned onto her side to see Sokka fast asleep and slightly snoring a few feet away in his own bedroll and now mostly awake she tilted her head towards the sounds. She didn't quite trust anyone to reveal it to her come morning.

“Ba Sing Se… there was a gateway there, right?” She heard Hakoda ask, clearer now. “How many cities with spirit tears has it been that they’ve invaded?” Hakodate spoke slowly, trying to piece together strategy at once. Katara knew he’d be frowning at the ground beneath, his lips pulled taut with his hand softly rubbing at the slight stubble on his chin in thought, but didn't open her eyes.

“Too many.” Bato replied with a huff, yet still spoken softly.

Hakoda grunted his agreement, a slight annoyance clinging to the sound. “Do you think they’ve come for ours?” He asked, but it wasn't really a question. Katara heard the beads in his hair clack together with the shake of his head. “We don't have enough healthy warriors to fend them off with force, we’re still recovering from the scarce hunts this summer…” Hakoda trailed off, listing off resources, populations and battle plans in his head.

This time Katara heard Bato nod solemnly before reasoning, “For all we know it may not come to that, if they have come to take control of our gate then perhaps there could be negotiations, it mustn't come to battle.” Bato’s voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of worry filtering through that stained it into something even he couldn't truly believe.

After a couple moments of silence Hakoda replied, softer than Katara had ever heard him speak before, “You and I both know we have nothing to give them, now more than ever.”

The quiet fell once more, but heavier and harder to wade through, sticking to their skin. Katara heard the shuffling of heavy cloth and couldn't shake the feeling that she was now watched.

“ _How could you_.” Hakoda bit not a moment later, crisply spoken between clenched teeth. “My _daughter_. You would send her off to them? To that _place_? _For what_.” He demanded.

Katara froze, held her breath and prayed to the spirits they thought her sleeping.

“It is not as if I _want_ to. But how many have survived that?” Bato asked, and Katara couldn't shake the steep feeling of betrayal that shook the marrow from her bones and settled in a pool just beneath her heart; crawling between her ribs.

“ _For La’s sake_ , she's a _spirit host_. How many have had the strength to live like that? If she were trained she could have been a warrior to surpass even you or me, someone who _could_ stand a chance against the Fire Nation fleets. We don't know how powerful Katara could be if you only had let her.” She heard Bato heave out a sigh from deep within his chest. “But you have refused to let her near a blade, kept her isolated and now the Council wants to be rid of it… _her_.” Bato cringed at his slip of tongue. When Katara had first Turned he had sworn to her never to think of her a beast, but found himself slipping all the same.

Katara buried her head deeper into the plush of her bedroll in choked silence and wished she had never woken, wished curiosity hadn't nestled into her mind and risen her from sleep.

She heard her father sip in a breath through clamped teeth. “ _Never_.” He said so harshly that even she felt fear poke at the muscles in her jaw she had not realized she was clenching. “I let you into my house and you come here with this?”

Katara heard the scrape of snow moving, heard feet plant themselves into the ground. “She's like a daughter to me, your children have been family to my wife and I since our Atiqtalaaq...” Bato began and Katara could almost feel the rage burning from her father’s eyes, twisting his eyes into the wolves’ they hunt. “But the elders don't know her like I do. They see her Turn and not much else, they know only the danger she could bring and think another mouth to feed in trying times.” He paused to choose his next words carefully, bend them through his mind before rolling them off his tongue. “I'm here to warn you that they will not be swayed. That should it come to it, they _will_ trade her to see to their own safety. Spirit hosts are a rarity, even in the Fire Nation, and to get their hands on such a strong one would be an offer they cannot refuse…  
I do not want to see her leave, to send her off alone to some nation as tribute. But should they come for our gateway, stomping over our tribe on the way, they see no other option. We have not much else to negotiate with that would mean anything to them”

Katara was surprised, and perhaps angry, that her father had stayed quiet through it all. But she knew him to be a man of strategy, of head over heartstrings, and for the first time, she hated him for it.

Hakoda was quiet, temper paling as his words mulled over in his head. He took a couple steps back, found a seat and buried his hand into his hair, gently tugging at the roots.

“Are you sure?” He asked just above a whisper, “Are there no other plans? Nothing else we can do?” Frustration lined deftly the quiet words, as if you could hear his heart breaking into the sounds.

“There is always another way.” Bato said softly, and Katara heard the ice crunch below as he kneeled down beside her father, one hand on Hakoda’s knee, the other weighing down his shoulder, anchoring him like the ship stalled in the bay.

“Perhaps together we can convince them.” Bato said lightly, and the tension melted out of Hakoda like a summer thaw. “Until then, make her integral to the tribe. Something we can't live without…” his eyes slid over to Katara and the smallest of grins played at his mouth. “Maybe let her hunt, yeah? Tui knows, we could use her help.”

Hakoda resigned himself with a sigh. “They're going that badly are they?” Worry laced between his teeth but he tried to revel in the subtle levity nonetheless.

The tension leveled out and the conversation lifted, as is often with old friends. But Katara laid still in her bedroll, eyes wide and staring into nothing at the ceiling. Scared to move, fear fused her back from spine to tusk, fingers bent into the covers until they gleaned bone white.

She thought of her home near the ocean, a blinding white and stormy. Frozen to its core. They often faced hardships, slow hunts, droughts and death, but she had never thought of leaving. These ice floes were hers to call home no matter how unsteady the foundations; she’d known nothing but the sweet kiss of cold since birth and, when she turned old and her bones sat in her body like stones, she intended to die with it one day.

Katara let the lull of dull conversation carry her thoughts, hoped it would put her to sleep.

Eventually, she slept as if in a daze, with dreams of men with coal for eyes that burned and burned and burned, setting fire to all they might touch. She dreamed of a home ablaze, of the air she breathed alight and scalding her lungs a papery black. She dreamed they found her mother in the chaos, body ripped open with blood still freshly pooling and they locked her away, caged her until Turning and burned her at a stake. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think of Bato and Hakoda as like... platonic soulmates yknow?? They've got like this connection that most ppl will never find in life but aren't like attracted to eachother I dunno
> 
> I feel like I'm not just randomly throwing shit together anymore like I've got a stronger idea of the plot and everything so I hope everything works out. 
> 
> Atiqtalaaq- polar bear cub


	7. bark and ember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a nation where fire was a friend, the pitch dark held only the sticky fear of death and nightmares. 
> 
> Is this what they've been looking for?

After the band woke and ate a quick meal; with the burn of Fire Nation spices rubbing into the cuts in their mouths where they had split and chapped from cold, they left their stomachs mostly empty and yearning. They set off through the large hall they had spent the night in, following the paths where Prince Zuko’s guts and whims led them in heavy silence.

They passed by carvings in the ice cave walls, treading quietly through the cold passages. The light of their torches casted shadows across the temple-like figures. It seemed almost untouched by the roaming fingers of wind or sun for as long as they had lived, and as the light met with the carvings they seemed to dance at the prospect of sweet company, shadows running across the walls in grooves like shallow breaths.

They traveled quiet as they could, matched their booted footsteps to the soft crackling flames of the torches that licked at the stiff air and cast a deceptive glow. As if warmth could cling to the swallowing dark weighing heavy on their shoulders, their hollow eyes and cheeks.

With the night so heavily dripping around them they could just barely tell where their feet fell or their eyes swam, and yet the fire nation troop kept quiet, mouths glued honey shut as if the cave would steal their whispering voices and carry them in its empty halls for eons after passing. Because, in a nation where fire was a friend, the pitch dark held only the sticky fear of death and nightmares.

They walked on, and only after an hour or so did they realize they had been climbing upwards, on an incline so slowly rising that they had hardly even noticed until their breaths fell short and legs burned.

Even Prince Zuko took rest, leaned against a wall with his head thrown back, trying to relieve his lungs that gasped for air.

What he did breathe in was stuffy and hollow, the winds he could still hear sing throughout the passageways had apparently not touched this deep in ages, leaving what was left in a deathlike stillness. Zuko hadn't known air could rot.

He called to his men, and they trudged on, he tried to ignore their grumbling and soft swears. Very nearly succeeded.

They were wandering listlessly when a wave of energy Zuko had almost mistaken for wind in the empty corridors, but was the unmistakable form of a host-less spirit knocked his crew down, jumping from soldier to soldier in search of a host. Desperately searching for a heart to crawl into but failed at each, too small to sway their souls to binding. It pulled at the Prince’s burning soul and he knew for certain in that moment where it was going.

“Follow that thing!” He barked and he took off after it as it raced through the halls. Zuko chased it, embers flitting between his teeth and comrades close behind after catching their bearings. They followed it until their breath couldn't quite catch their aching lungs and they stood before a meticulously carved archway.

The energy gathered in the room before Zuko into something that felt almost haunting, it thrummed with the beat of his heart before skirting under the archway. Hope. No, anticipation strummed along in his veins and yet he stood there until his troop had caught their breath, almost too scared to cross and find he had failed his father once again.

He didn't even allow himself to blink as he stalked into the room before him bathed in an unnatural glow and his eyes burned with the effort. They took a moment to adjust to the strange new light after so long with the dull torch flames that had carried them through this far, but he saw the rift anyways. Zuko reached out cautious fingers towards it, had never seen something so bright and strange. It almost seemed to breathe, churning slightly as the air around it crackled with electricity.

So entranced with the rift between worlds that the Fire Nation party had not noticed the figure folded into the corner, until, of course, it creaked to a standing position, as if brittle with age.

Zuko’s head snapped in its direction, he drew the dao swords strapped to his back and found himself face to face with an otherworldly beast. Through the earth packed between its bark ribs they could see fire, it crackled along the bones of the spirit’s chest, charing its wooden ribcage a gnarly black as ash filtered out from between its teeth. Zuko’s eyes widened, for he too had felt fire settle near his heart, roasting from the inside out, and he tucked away his head, turned his eyes from the too-familiar sight.

“We mean no harm.” Zuko said, and the bile smoothing off his tongue tasted almost like deceit. He stretched his arm out, palm towards the ground in warning to his men, _put your weapons down_. “We search only for the barrier, the tear in the fabric between worlds.” That, at least, was true.

The spirit tilted its head as it looked at Zuko, as if weighing its next words, dipping its thoughts into language and folding them between its tongue with care.

“Why do you seek it?” It asked, curiosity slipping out in a low growl.

Zuko furrowed his eyebrows. “To destroy it.” He said simply, confusion leaked into his hands, loosening his grip on his dao swords and letting the curved blades rest on the ground, tips carving smooth nicks into the cave floor. “To separate the worlds here and restore harmony to our nations.” _How could anyone want anything else?_ The unspoken addition could be felt in the tensing of the guardian’s shoulders and face, spilling out as ash beat around the fire in its ribcage like the smokey illusion of lungs. It, this thing, almost seemed to breathe and Prince Zuko wondered if it truly lived, he wondered what living meant to him.

The spirit pulled away abruptly, mouth curled in a snarl. “You know not of which you speak.”

It pawed at the ice with its spear as if preparing to strike, scratching deep grooves underneath its weapon. “The gateway is our salvation,” it intoned, “it is the breath between life and death.” It shook its long head and smoke curled from its mouth as it spoke. “ _No harm, you tell me?_ ” It growled and advanced towards Zuko menacingly. “You trail death in your footsteps, yet speak of the _honour_ in your crusade.”

Zuko stumbled back as it crawled closer, his heart thrummed against his chest as he was backed against the side of the cave, pressing his head to the ice as the spirit approached him huffing. He stared at the sharp teeth protruding from its jaw and the joints of his knees creaked, trembling slightly under his weight as he grit his teeth. The spirit paused, sniffed slowly at him, pointed jaw right next to his ear before backing away. Something akin to a smirk and a low chuckle played at its mouth threateningly, raising goosebumps across Zuko’s skin.

“You reek of fire, young one. Essence clouds your blood, _and yet you are weak still_.” It spat as soot dripped onto the floor from its mouth like wax melting down the sides of prayer candles, softening from the anger seeping through its charred fangs. “You have stolen spirit but would charge us to _rot_ in a world that is dying.”

It eyed the soldiers distastefully and no one dared move, they froze as if carved into stone and their pride crumbled from rock to dust as one by one the malice sticking to the spirit’s teeth as it spoke shook their clammy hands until their weapons dropped.

“I am the guardian of _Aurora_ , and you would be wise not to trifle with things you do not understand.” The bark spirit took a moment more to straighten out beside the portal, hefting itself to its full size and towering over the frightened soldiers. It loomed for a second more before it puffed out an ashy breath. The guardian spirit slammed its spear against the ice below, cracked it, and hit it again and again until the floor broke into chunks. It crumbled away beneath them, sent them tumbling into the air below to crash onto the floor of the corridors underneath. Their armour was all sharp edges and ridges, and bruised their ribs. Zuko wondered yet again why they didn't have anything more suited to the Southern climate but was interrupted when he realized their movement hadn't stopped with the fall but tumbled still.

The steep incline of the hallways they had climbed now rushed beneath the Fire Nation troop as they rolled down at an alarming pace. Prince Zuko tucked himself into a ball to protect him from the worst of the fall, waited for the incline to even out and hoped the others had the sense to do the same. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Katara and Zuko should finally be introduced to each other in the next chapter or two
> 
> Funny how I've had about half of this written out for almost a year but was so stuck on the rest it took this long. Which is also why some of it is so clunky and awful: I got way too frustrated and may have mostly given up on making this chapter make sense.

**Author's Note:**

> I started this a while ago but then didn't know what to do with it and then I realized that ZK Week was coming up and I was like !! oh shit !! so I gave it another shot and I'm liking how it turned out. I'm really sorry this doesn't fit into any of the Zutara Week themes!
> 
> if there are triggers you need tagged then just tell me and I can put them up!


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